


il n'a rien dit mais il me plaît

by sessrumnir



Category: Buzzfeed - Fandom, Worth It/Unsolved
Genre: #rareshaneweek, Blow Jobs, Casual Sex, Come Swallowing, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-09-06 07:30:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16828000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sessrumnir/pseuds/sessrumnir
Summary: It's late, Shane is tired, and he wants a drink. Andrew happens to offer just that. A pleasant surprise, in many ways.





	1. tu crois le tenir, il t'évite

**Author's Note:**

> so HI!!!! I had actually two prompts for new ship november but this wasn't a kind month and I ended up writing just the one. still, it's a pairing that I think deserves a lot more attention than it gets. I mean, come on. two nerds being nerds together, and maybe kinky, too? what could possibly go wrong.
> 
> (nothing. the answer is nothing.)
> 
> big thanks to [@istie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/istie) for the music tips! <3

It’s late. Shane only realizes it when Ryan finally stands up from his desk, stretching loudly.

“You coming?” He asks.

“Where?”

“You know, the whole Friday thing. Quinta says the place is great.”

Shane considers it for a second. “Nah, think I’ll pass. Have fun!”

Ryan blows raspberry at him, but walks away with a goodbye and a  _ you’re getting old!  _ thrown over his shoulder. Fact is, Shane wouldn’t mind going out for a drink, but dancing seems too much when he’s been walking around that office all day. And he knows that wherever Quinta is taking all of them to--because Ryan isn’t going alone, Shane realizes, as half the desks around him are now empty—, it’s a bang of a place. So what if Shane wants to have a quiet Friday? He earned it. Or well. He thinks he did, and that is enough for him.

It takes him another half an hour to get it right, but he finally manages to finish the editing on that section of the video he’s been working on. He stretches his arms over his head, groaning. 

“I thought you had gone with them,” someone says from his right. Shane turns to see Andrew is still there, one of the few people left other than Shane himself. “Didn’t feel like partying today?”

“Eh, not really. Too much moving.” 

Andrew chuckles, standing up as his computer turns off. He throws his jacket over his shoulder, not bothering with the arms, and starts grabbing his things from the desk.

“Wanna go for a drink?” 

It’s not that the question is out of nowhere per se, but it’s the fact that  _ Andrew  _ just asked that. Shane doesn’t remember an instance of them hanging out together, just the two of them. His anxiety flares up for a moment, wondering if it’s just him being polite and expecting Shane to decline.

But then again, Shane really could go for a drink right now.

“Sure.” He stands up and gathers his things, too, turning off his computer and laptop. “Any suggestions?”

Andrew grins, not unlike a cat. “Oh, buddy. If I have suggestions.”

* * *

They end up in Andrew’s car, making small talk about their day at the office, the weather, the traffic. It’s incredibly easy, Shane realizes, because their conversation follows a smooth, very relaxed rhythm that is just what Shane needed tonight. If he feared a headache back at the office, now he’s not so worried anymore. Andrew has some classical music playing in the car, but it’s low, just in the background. Perfect.

“Oh no,” Andrew says then. Shane follows his gaze to see the avenue ahead of them has slowed to a stop, traffic clearly impossible. “I don’t think we can get there. Not if we want to have those drinks tonight, at least.”

Shane suggests another place, and Andrew turns right as soon as possible, changing their route. 

“I might cry if I don’t have any alcohol today. I’m just saying,” Shane says, making Andrew laugh. “I think I’ll just drop right there where I am and sob.” 

“Don’t worry, we’ll find somewhere. I know this is LA but come on, this is ridiculous.”

And it is indeed ridiculous. Not only is traffic insane, but the place Shane suggested is so crowded they can’t even see inside. They share a look that says  _ please don’t tell me you wanna go in there _ and start laughing, because it’s just absurd that they can’t find a nice place to drink a beer. Well, Shane wants a beer. He has no idea what Andrew drinks. 

“You know,” Andrew says after a while, when they finally find a way out of there and he can take a turn to a less crowded street. “I have wine at home. And scotch. And I think I have a couple beers left, but I’m not so sure.”

Shane barely even considers it. He’s just so tired of being inside a car he shrugs and says, “If you’re cool with me drying up your liquor, I’m game.”

Andrew smiles. “I have too much for someone who lives alone, anyway.” 

* * *

After almost two hours of driving around town just trying to get to places, Shane walks into Andrew’s apartment and feels his jaw drop. It’s not a fancy place by any means, and it’s actually smaller than his own place, but Andrew has  _ style _ . There are paintings on the walls, and a tapestry opposite from where Shane is standing. It smells nice in there, like Andrew had lit an incense before leaving. The bookcase to his left is filled to the top with a remarkable collection. 

A little indignant meow takes Shane out of his reverie. Andrew’s cat is staring at him, tail swinging left and right, a few feet from him. 

“Hi,” Shane says. He wonders if he smells like Obi.

“Be nice, Wellington,” Andrew says as he walks by Shane, coming back from his room and into the kitchen. “Friend, not foe.”

Shane crouches down, making that weird thing with his hand that he (and the rest of humanity) does when seeing a cat. Wellington doesn’t seem to trust him just yet, turning his back to Shane and showing him his butt as he walks back inside, but Shane considers it a victory that he didn’t come out of that interaction with a few scratch marks. When he stands up again, Andrew is looking at him, amused, from the kitchen door. “Not best friends, I gather?”

“Not  _ yet _ .” 

Andrew nods. “I do have beer, by the way. Beer, wine and scotch.” 

While in the car, Shane just wanted a beer for the simplicity of it. But now that he’s walked into Andrew’s Very Adult And Well Decorated Apartment, he feels like he could go for a bit more. “Wine, thank you.”

Andrew goes back into the kitchen and comes out with two glasses of wine, the big, fancy ones. Because of course. 

“You know you can sit down, right,” Andrew says, and Shane realizes he’s been standing there this whole time. He takes a glass and sits down on the couch, looking around the room.

“Nice home. Very ‘I have my shit together and I know exactly what good taste feels like’.” Shane smells his wine and takes a sip. “This is good. Very good.”

“Right?” Andrew says from where he’s standing, looking through the bookshelf. “I bought a couple of bottles but this is the last one. I need to remind myself to buy more.”

He pulls something out of the shelf; a vinyl, that he takes out of its sleeve and sets in what Shane only now realizes is a compact, discreet vinyl player. 

“I knew you were sophisticated but this is exceeding my expectations,” Shane only half jokes. He’s glad to see a smirk on Andrew’s face. 

“I’m corny, that’s what this is. No, but really, I just like it. I don’t know why exactly.”

“Yeah, I know. I have one too.”

“Really?” Andrew looks at him, surprised. “Never would’ve guessed.” 

Shane shrugs. He takes another sip, so happy to finally have something to drink.

“Old habits die hard, I think. My mom still has hers, and I was always a mama’s boy.”

Andrew actually snorts into his glass. 

“Hey, it’s a title I’m pride of!” Shane says, laughing with him.

“Whatever you say, man.”

Music fills the room when Andrew places the needle. Classical music, once again, but this one Shane thinks he recognizes. He doesn’t say it, watching with his peripheral vision as Andrew sits down on an armchair to his left. The music is rich, and the singer adds so much emotion to it Shane feels like he can understand what she’s saying, even though he’s pretty sure she’s speaking French.

“She’s singing about love,” Andrew supplies, catching Shane’s unfocused gaze. It’s a bit unnerving that he guessed exactly what Shane was thinking. “ _ Love is a rebellious bird that no one can tame _ .” 

Shane looks at him. He seems so sure of it, so confident; it’s interesting to watch the way he twirls the wine in his glass, listening to the next verses.

“ _ Nothing helps, neither a threat nor a prayer.”  _

“That’s cheerful.”

Andrew hesitates. “I don’t think it was meant as a love song. It’s more about…”

“Pain?” Shane completes. Andrew stares at him for a second.

“Yeah.” 

They listen in silence for a second. The singing gets more passionate, then slows down again, and Shane is sure he has listened to it before, but he never paid attention to it. It’s a beautiful song, but Shane can feel the pain, the anguish in the lyrics he doesn’t understand. It’s a difference experience; he doesn’t remember ever paying attention to what any classical music said before.

“ _ Tu crois le tenir, il t'évite _ ,” Andrew recites in what sounds to Shane’s ears like impeccable French. “ _ Tu crois l'éviter, il te tient _ .” 

Shane nods, even though he doesn’t understand the words. Watching Andrew here, among his things, drinking his own wine, listening to his records, is somewhat different. Shane sees a very relaxed version of Andrew; not that he doesn’t have his familiar straight face on, but he looks comfortable, a little slouched on the armchair, legs crossed, free hand between his thighs. The way he swirls his glass shows finesse--and here Shane stops his own train of thoughts to think  _ what _ —and it’s a little hypnotizing, to be frank. 

Andrew’s lips acquire a rosy tint to them when he takes another sip, and Shane can’t help but watch when his tongue peeks out to lick his lips. Shane feels his own neck hot. That was entirely too hot for someone Shane didn’t even realize he had an attraction to. Still mumbling the lyrics to the song, Andrew glances over at him and smiles, and fuck, yeah, maybe Andrew  _ is  _ kinda hot right now. 

“Do you have any particular interest in this song?” Shane asks, apropos of nothing. 

For a moment, Andrew doesn’t say anything. Shane watches the curve of his nose, wondering if he has just crossed a line. Instead, Andrew takes a sip with a smile.

“Maybe,” he says. “I think you would, too.”

Shane wants to pull his phone out of his pocket and look up the lyrics, but he’s not about to. He feels comfy enough like this, enjoying the suave bitterness in his mouth, listening to the song that comes up next. It’s still in French, but just as beautiful. 

“I think you’d be interested in a lot of things if you tried them at some point,” Andrew says, and Shane stops short on his way to drink from his glass. It sounded like a lot of things, in all honesty, but Shane’s mind went straight to the worst possible conclusion.

_ Andrew wouldn’t hit on me, of all people _ , Shane thinks, illogically. And yet. 

Yet there he is, calm and collected, finishing his glass with another lick of his lips. He smirks at what is probably a very confused or at the very least surprised expression on Shane’s face.

“Geography,” Andrew says. “You seemed very interested in it the last time I brought it up.”

“Oh. Back when we were filming Ruining History? I had… forgotten about that.”

“I haven’t. You were impressed.”

Everything Andrew says is so matter-of-factly that Shane finds it hard to believe he has any other intention with this conversation. But it doesn’t miss him the fact that Andrew is bringing all of this up out of nowhere, after barely a glass of wine, just two songs into the record he had picked. 

Truth is, Shane  _ had _ been impressed. More than he’d like to admit, but maybe the way he approached Andrew after filming to ask him about it and praise his frankly remarkable knowledge was a bit too eager to forget. Shane had always had a thing for History, but he wasn’t the greatest fan of learning things at school, so he never tried to go for more than what was offered to him. Andrew had. Apparently for more than Shane even knew. 

“How could I not,” Shane says now, trying his best to be blasé about it--and probably failing miserably. “It’s not everyday I meet someone who could very well be called a genius, let’s be real here. We’re in LA.”

Andrew laughs at that, heartily, and Shane feels himself smile. If it’s something more, he doesn’t know--but he’s having  _ fun _ . 

“I’m not even close to a genius, but I’ll take the compliment. We take what we can get, right?” 

“Right,” Shane says, a little more intensely than Andrew. He thinks he catches a glint of Andrew’s eyes, a passing understand of how Shane is now on board with this, whatever this is. 

With that, Andrew stands up. “Do you want another glass?” He asks, indicating Shane’s half-empty one.

“Nope, I’m good for now, thanks.”

“Ok. Feel free to get more in the kitchen, if you want.” Andrew turns his glass all the way down, drinking the last few drops. Shane swallows dry at the way Andrew exposes his neck, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He finally lowers his glass and puts it on the coffee table between them, not looking at Shane when he says: “I’m gonna take a shower.” 

And then, when Shane thinks this is all there is to it, Andrew looks right into his eyes and says: “You’re welcome to join me, if you want” before he leaves the room. 

Shane feels his neck and face burn in surprise. If he had questions before, he doesn’t have them now.

He wants it. He really,  _ really  _ wants it. 


	2. tu crois l’eviter, il te tient

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it took me a lifetime to update, life always gets in the way. now onto the smut!

Shane makes a decision right away.

He stands up with his glass, drinking it until the last drop. Putting it down, he uses a hand to check his breath, then makes a face. Why is he so nervous? They’re both adults. Sure, it’s kinda out of nowhere, but he was never one to fear new things. 

Especially when such new things had a smile to kill for.

Shane can’t walk fast enough. He passes two closed doors and heads for the room down the corridor, the one with the door open and the soft light. The song follows him inside; Shane feels giddy all of a sudden. He feels a little bit like in a movie, what with the soundtrack, and the light setting the mood. 

He reaches the room and feels the breath catch in his throat. 

Andrew is facing away from him, but that only serves to paint his outline against the light coming from the bathroom. He looks quite literally like a painting; his hair shines like a halo, and his big arms are tense, working something Shane can’t see. It’s only when Andrew looks back at him that he sees Andrew working on the buttons of his white shirt. He works each button free with a smirk that sends a rush of blood somewhere else on Shane’s body. 

“Glad you could join me,” Andrew says, the smug son of a bitch. “C’mere, lemme help you with that.”

Shane walks into the room, towards Andrew, almost bewitched. He’s greeted by Andrew’s naked chest and  _ god _ , why is he so turned on already?

“You look good,” he says, idiotically. Andrew smiles.

“Thank you.” That’s all Andrew says before he reaches up to the first button of Shane’s shirt, undoing it with fingers so gentle Shane can barely feel them. “It’s only fair, when you look like this.”

He takes ahold of Shane’s shirt and uses it to pull Shane down for a kiss. Whatever Shane was thinking goes right out the window; Andrew’s lips are so soft, and his kiss is so incomprehensible sensual, Shane stops thinking altogether. His hands find purchase on Andrew’s waist. It lasts all of five seconds before Andrew is smiling against his lips, pulling back. 

“I should keep going with these,” Andrew says as he resumes unbuttoning Shane’s shirt. “I don’t want to ruin your clothes.”

“Oh, ruin me alright. I’m fine. Who cares about clothes, anyway.”

Andrew laughs. “I do. Care about yours, I mean. You look great in them.”

He looks up when he finishes the last button. And if Shane had never seen a hungry look before, now he has.

“I wanna see how great you look without them, too,” Andrew says, staring straight into Shane’s eyes, without missing a beat. Shane doesn’t need to think about a response because Andrew inches closer until his mouth is right over Shane’s collarbone, breathing warmth against his skin. There’s the tiniest touch of his lips, and Shane resists the urge to throw his head back. Instead, he watches Andrew kiss his collarbone up, until his mouth is on the junction between Shane’s neck and throat, and  _ fuck _ . 

The music is still going in the living room, and the room around them starts to not matter a lot anymore. All Shane sees is Andrew’s body, warm, firm right against his, and he dives down again to catch Andrew’s lips on his. This time their kiss is longer, more desperate, while Andrew works with purpose on Shane’s belt. He pulls Shane’s pants down at the same time he wraps a hand around Shane’s cock. 

“Fuck,” Shane pants into his mouth. He’s rock hard, and he doesn’t know exactly when that happened, but Andrew seems happy with his find. He gives it a little squeeze before pulling his hand back long enough to lick his palm, eyes closed. “Fuck,” Shane says again, because _Jesus_. What is going  _ on. _

Andrew’s hand is back around him and Shane keens, searching for his mouth again, kissing him like he’s out of breath and Andrew’s lips hold the oxygen to keep him breathing. He doesn’t miss the way Andrew smirks between their kisses, especially with the way Andrew is stroking him, languid but perfect strokes every time, driving Shane crazy.

“Shower?” Andrew whispers, and his voice is goddamn _h_ __usky_. _ Shane nods, out of words and out of breath.

They lose the rest of their clothes on the way to the bathroom. Shane feels bold now, holding Andrew against him, one hand running lower and lower until he can get a feel of Andrew’s beautiful, gorgeous ass. He breathes out a  _ gorgeous _ when he gets a handful, and Andrew grins.

Shane catches a glimpse of his grin when he leans in closer, lips brushing against Shane’s cheek when he says, “I want to suck you off.” 

“Yes,” Shane is being led into the shower, and he’s so, so hard. Fuck. “Yes, Jesus, Andrew…”

Andrew turns around to turn on the shower and Shane embraces him from behind, taking Andrew’s cock in one hand and squeezing it just the way Andrew did to him earlier. The water hits them—mostly Shane’s back—and it’s a shame, because it almost drowns out the sound Andrew made when Shane touched him, mouth falling open and eyes closing. 

“You look good,” he says again, making Andrew chuckle. He can feel the sound against his chest. 

“I believe you already said that.”

“Yes, but now you’re naked,” Shane says, simply. Andrew laughs. “And hot.”

“Hot?”

“Yes. Scorching hot.”

Andrew turns around in Shane’s arms, going up on his tiptoes to kiss Shane again. They take their sweet damn time now, with water cascading down their bodies. Andrew gets his own handful of ass, making Shane rut against the air, desperate for more, so much more. The message must get across because Andrew parts the kiss and turns off the shower; it’s so fast Shane doesn’t get to ask what he’s doing before Andrew has pushed him against the wall and kneeled in front of him.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Shane feels close to combusting with the image of Andrew down on one knee, pumping Shane’s dick and looking up at him. 

“Let me know if you want me to stop at any time,” Andrew says conversationally before holding one of Shane’s thighs for balance and sucking down Shane’s dick.

He starts with the head, so it’s not too abrupt, but Shane still feels his legs tremble with the sudden warmth around his member. He tries not to sound too ridiculously gone but still moans loud enough to echo in the bathroom walls. Andrew is not wasting any second—he sucks on the head, paying particular attention to the way Shane’s knees threaten to buckle every time Andrew licks up his slit, then starts to take in more. Shane, who knows he’s not particularly endowed but not a beginner’s challenge by any means, worries that Andrew is going too far to please him but realizes, with every flick of Andrew’s tongue and every look he sends him from his position on his knees that he’s  _ loving _ it. And god, does he know how to give a blowjob. Shane is quite speechless after the first initial moan because his brain seems to have dropped to his balls, and all he can think of is how  _ good _ it feels. One of his hands is on Andrew’s head, just resting there, following his moves, twitching every time he fears Andrew is about to choke or give any sign of discomfort.

But it never happens.

Andrew goes through it with so much purpose and poise that Shane will later think back on it and wonder just how one learns to give such excellent head. Shane gets close embarrassingly fast—to him, anyway—and warns Andrew, who slides Shane’s dick out of his mouth in a very obscene, mesmerizing way to ask, “Can I swallow?”

“Fuck, _yes._ ” Shane is maybe a bit too enthusiastic but he doesn’t realize nor care about it, because as soon as Andrew has wrapped his lips around him again he’s coming,  _ hard _ . He tries to find purchase on the wall behind him, the wall next to it, anywhere, but there’s nowhere, only here and now and  _ fuckfuckfuck _ . Andrew doesn’t pull back until Shane is all dry, panting, staring ahead with unfocused eyes.

“You ok?” Andrew asks, and Shane is pretty sure he hears a smile on his voice. Sure enough, when he looks down Andrew is smirking up at him, wiping at his mouth like he has just tasted a snack and forgotten to take a napkin. 

“I’m never watching your show and not thinking about this again,” Shane announces, making Andrew laugh. “Get up here,” Shane turns the shower back on and helps Andrew on his feet. 

Now that he has orgasmed like probably never before in his life—lots to unpack there, but not today, Satan—, Shane feels like he can pay more attention to what he’s doing. When Andrew is up, he pushes him gently under the water, just enough to get him (gorgeously) wet. Then Shane takes Andrew’s face between his hands and kisses him, passionately, hotly. Shane slides a leg between Andrew’s legs, satisfied when he hears a groan. He can feel Andrew’s dick against his skin, throbbing. 

“Can you do something for me?” He asks in between the kiss, voice low. Andrew, now as hot and bothered as Shane was a minute ago, nods. “Turn around. Hands on the wall.”

Andrew looks at him questioningly, but Shane just nods minutely. There’s not enough time or prep for them to get fancy, and Andrew sees that in Shane’s nod. So he does as he’s told, lowering his torso when he feels Shane’s hand on his back, suggesting him to do so. Shane wishes, for the first time that night, that this isn’t a one-time thing. He wishes they could explore more, learn each other’s body further than whatever this is allows them to. But for now, he settles for what he has planned: he embraces Andrew from behind again, like before, only this time he lets his dick brush against Andrew’s ass as he leans over him, one hand finding Andrew’s cock. 

“Shane…” Andrew pleads, and it sounds so inexplicably hot in his deep, husky voice. “ _Fuck_ , you’re killing me.”

“Hopefully not,” Shane says. He starts pumping slowly, getting acquainted with the curve of Andrew’s body, with his thick length and the breathy groans he lets out with every stroke. “You look good like this.”

If Andrew hadn’t been so on edge, Shane feels like that would earn him a chuckle. Right now though, Andrew only huffs a, “Fuck you.”

“Maybe next time,” Shane says, twisting his wrist to give Andrew the best he can possibly offer him. Andrew’s entire body shudders with pent-up pleasure. “Is this ok?”

“Yes. That’s lovely.” 

Shane squeezes harder, pressing himself closer against Andrew’s back. “How about now?”

“Fuck— _Shane_ —”

Shane kisses his shoulder, increasing the pace with his hand. Andrew’s body is responding to him beautifully, entirely, with every muscle he can touch. He can still hear the distant sound of the music playing in the living room, and he feels enamored with everything; with Andrew’s voice, with his little tremors, with how close he feels under Shane’s touch. 

“Please kiss me,” Shane asks—or rather tells—him. Andrew turns his head to the side and kisses him back when Shane catches his lips on his, never faltering in the rhythm of his hand. That seems to bring Andrew even closer to the edge, because he moans into Shane’s mouth and comes, exploding in thick ropes of white all over his hand. 

Shane strokes him to completion, taking over the kiss when Andrew seems unable to do more than bask in the afterglow. He presses a soft kiss to his bottom lip and discreetly lets the water wash the come off his hand. 

“Jesus,” Andrew says when he’s composed enough to do so. 

“Nope. The beard confuses people, I get it, but nope.”

Andrew just chuckles at that, finally opening his eyes. He meets Shane’s with a smile that warms Shane’s chest; yes, that was good. That was really, really good.

“Should we take a shower now? A proper one this time.”

“Sure.” 

It’s quicker once they finally get around to using soap and shampoo, but somehow not less intense. They touch the other body with almost frank, polite curiosity, learning, watching. Shane discovers that Andrew has legs to die for; he kinda already knew about the killer ass. Andrew is vocal about how broad and kissable—his words—Shane’s back is. They enjoy each other’s company for the entirety of that shower, and when they’re finally out, they seem to have gone back to friendly topics without realizing it.

“I’m pretty sure it’s Western Siberia, but I’d have to look it up to make sure I’m not talking out of my ass here,” Andrew says when they’re almost completely dressed again—Andrew in some comfortable shorts and white t-shirt, Shane in his now crumpled button-up and jeans. Shane is sitting on his bed, holding a sock over a naked foot, but paying too much attention to actually go through the motions of wearing it. “And it’s so distant from modern Hungarian it’s estimated to be about two thousand years separating them.”

“Holy _ shit _ . Wait, so it’s got nothing out of Proto Indo-European? How does that happen? Isn’t Hungaria sitting among a dozen or so European countries?”

“Yes, it is.” Andrew is leaning against his wardrobe, smiling. “It’s right next to Romania.”

“Romania!” Shane throws his hands up, waving a sock unwittingly. “That’s insane! It’s like growing up speaking a different language from your family. ‘What is little Matt saying?’ ‘Fuck if _I_ know.’”

Andrew laughs heartily at that, and Shane watches him for a second. He feels a smile he can’t contain taking hold of his lips.

“This was, uh, great,” he says, scratching his nose. That suddenly reminds him he’s supposed to be putting on his shoes, and so he does it, using the opportunity to avoid Andrew’s eyes. “I had fun.”

“Yeah, this was nice.”

The way Andrew says it has Shane looking up. Indeed, he’s smiling back at Shane, looking very relaxed (and very smug, mind you). 

“Nice in the sense that you’d rather I stopped talking about it,” Shane decides to rip the band-aid off at once because fuck it. He’s done more that could embarrass himself tonight, and he wasn’t embarrassed, so to hell with walking on eggshells. “Or nice in the sense that you’d like a repeat of it someday?”

Andrew is looking at him with a smile, not saying anything for what feels like infinite seconds to Shane. Finally, he stands up straight and walks over to Shane, close enough to put a finger under Shane’s chin to make him look up. Andrew kisses him softly, gently on the lips; Shane gets to make it last another moment, and then another, until they eventually part. They’re wearing identical smirks. 

“I’d very much appreciate a repeat. Make it several. There’s a lot I want to do with you, Mr Madej.”

It feels both appropriate and inappropriate for Andrew to call him that, and Shane can’t tell if he’s amused or turned on by it. 

“Good. That’s good. I’m all yours,” Shane says, then makes a face. “I mean. Not in a. We’re not. Is this? I mean.”

“No, this isn’t—I mean, I don’t know, maybe? Excuse my French but,” Andrew holds back a smile. “Right now I just want to fuck you. That’s it. Different ways. Different days. If there’s something else there, sure, we can go for it. But I just want to make clear I’m interested in sex, right now. Not a full-on relationship.”

“That’s good. Wait,” Shane can’t resist the urge to joke: “So you only want my body? I’m more than a nice piece of ass, I’ll have you know.”

Andrew laughs, the corner of his eyes crinkling. “You’re right. How awfully shallow of me to only think of your ass.” He traces Shane’s bottom lip with a finger, then looks right into Shane’s eyes when he says, “It’s not like I’m not thinking about riding your dick the next time you come over for wine.”

Shane gulps, taken aback—but pleasantly so. He doesn’t know what to say for a second, giving a short laugh in response, then kissing Andrew again. He feels Andrew’s arms around his neck and smiles into the kiss. 

Yeah, he feels like he’ll be coming over for wine again, that's for sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title and lyrics from bizet's habanera, from carmen. thank you for reading! ♥


End file.
